


To Boldly Go

by Balder12



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Schmoop, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 04:22:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Balder12/pseuds/Balder12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kevin and Sam dance around each other for awhile, but eventually they figure it out.  This is sweet, fluffy, enthusiastically consensual first time sex, and not much else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Boldly Go

Kevin sits perched on the edge of the bed, and the floor of Sam’s bedroom is cold under his feet.  Sam’s peering up at him from under the covers, waiting for him to talk.  Neither of them has said a word since Kevin knocked and Sam told him to come in.

“So,” Kevin says, and then stops, stumped.  He only thought this through as far as the door.  Part of him wants to blurt out, ‘Look, I like you, you like me, let’s get over ourselves and fuck.’  But he can’t imagine actually getting those words out of his mouth, and he doesn’t think Sam would take them well, anyway.

Part of him is pissed at Sam for making him feel like this, but that’s not fair.  He knows Sam wasn’t trying to seduce him.  If he had been it wouldn’t have worked.  The first hint of insincerity, of an _agenda_ , and Kevin would have been done with him.  After two years cut off from the human race, cowering in abandoned buildings and a rusted-out boat when he wasn’t held prisoner by Crowley, he’d trusted nothing and no one.  His soul was a closed fist.

 Sam had met his coldness and sarcasm with solid, steady warmth that never wavered, no matter how often Kevin snarled at his kindness.  He’d persisted in making Kevin sandwiches and bringing him bottles of water until he got into the habit of eating again, and had coaxed him gradually out of the safety of the bunker and into the blinding daylight. 

At first Kevin had only wanted Sam to hold him.  He’d craved the comfort of an arm around his shoulder or a hand on his back the same way he’d craved wholesome food and a safe place to sleep.  His needs had been so basic back then that he couldn’t have imagined anything more. 

But as he healed, parts of himself that had been crushed underfoot in the struggle to survive came tingling back to life, and he became aware of Sam in a new way:  the subtle bob of his throat with hidden emotion, the way his hair curled at the ends when he got out of the shower or plastered against his forehead after a run, the cunning of his long, delicate fingers carefully picking through crumbling manuscripts and the power of his huge hands sharpening knives and cleaning guns.  Kevin became an expert on the three enigmatic lines that formed habitually between Sam’s eyebrows, and took pride in the times he made them disappear.  He imagined what Sam’s mouth would feel like against his, the rough scrape of stubble and the soft lips; how it would be different from kissing a girl and how it would be the same.

Kevin never meant to inflict his feelings on Sam.  If there was one thing he’d mastered after months spent tricking Crowley it was how to lie convincingly.  He’d enjoy Sam’s company for what it was, and if he twisted it to his own dirty purposes in his bedroom at night, Sam didn’t need to know.  Except that all too often when he tried to steal a glance at Sam, he’d catch Sam trying to steal a glance right back, and their eyes would lock for an awkward moment before they both looked away.  Sam would ruffle his hair in a brotherly way, but then his fingers would linger an instant too long and turn the gesture into something else entirely.  Gradually it evolved into the world’s longest game of chicken, every glance a little more deliberate, every touch a bit longer, and still neither of them was brave enough to do anything about it.  Kevin imagined this was what it would have been like with Channing if she hadn’t been blunt enough to ask him out on a date. 

The tension twisted tighter with each passing day, until it finally snapped.  Kevin was hunting through the library for some old book when Sam’s hand settled firmly on the back of his neck.  It rested there longer than any friendly touch ever should, until Kevin’s face was hot and his skin was sticky with sweat. Finally he reached back and covered Sam’s hand with his own, interlacing their fingers, and lifted his gaze.  There was a beat of silence as they looked at each other, and then Kevin was crushed against the bookshelf by the weight of Sam’s body.  Somehow he’d imagined Sam would be shy; all his fantasies started off with convoluted seduction schemes.  He hadn’t expected to be lifted half off his feet and kissed until he was dizzy from lack of air.  He’d half-climbed Sam, a leg wrapped around his waist, one arm around his neck and the other buried in his hair.  He’d smiled against Sam’s mouth, unable to believe he was finally getting something he wanted.       

And then Sam had dropped him, and Kevin’s feet hit the ground with a thud.  “Sorry,” Sam said as he backed away from Kevin uneasily.  “I shouldn’t have . . . I don’t know what I was thinking.  Sorry.  Sorry.”  Kevin was breathless, half-hard, and desperately confused about what he’d done wrong.  He hadn’t managed to say anything before Sam walked out.

Sam had strategically avoided him the rest of the day, right up to the moment Kevin knocked on his door.  Now Kevin is sitting here staring at him, and he wants to kiss him, and he wants to save their friendship, and he still can’t think of a single thing to say.

 “So,” Kevin begins again, “did I ever tell you about my senior prom?”  Sam shakes his head.  Kevin doesn’t know why he’s opening with this, but at least words are coming out of his mouth.  “Me and Channing were going to go.  She’d already bought her dress and everything, but she wouldn’t let me see it.  Her mom and dad were going to be out of town that night, and that was really perfect, so we decided it was going to be the night we, you know.”  He makes a vague gesture.  He’s not sure this is his story to tell, but she’s been gone two years and it’s not like this is going to get back to her parents.  “It was still a week away but I’d already bought condoms at the drug store, along with like ten other things because I was embarrassed.  We were so excited.  _I_ was so excited.  And then everything went to hell and we never got the chance.  That was three years ago and I haven’t even kissed anybody since.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam says, and dear God he says that a lot.  “This isn’t how your life was supposed to go.”

“Yeah, but this is how it went.  And my point . . .” Kevin briefly casts around for what the point was.  “Look, I was ready to have sex three years ago, and I would have if my miserable life hadn’t gotten in the way.  I’m twenty, and if things had gone the way I wanted I’d have done this a long time ago.  Maybe with lots of people by now.  So you’re not, like, taking advantage of me, or corrupting my innocence, or whatever you think.”  

Sam smiles and reaches up to cradle Kevin’s face in his hand.  “I know.  I doubt I could take advantage of you if I tried.  Did you ever think maybe I’m the one with the problem?”  And no, Kevin hadn’t.  He eats three squares a day, showers regularly, and hardly ever locks himself in the closet anymore, but a lot of his mental real estate is still devoted to keeping himself alive and sane.  He doesn’t worry much about how Sam is doing.  Sam hasn’t given him any reason to.

“I haven’t kissed anyone in a couple of years myself,” Sam says.  “My relationships haven’t ended well, historically.”  He looks away, but his fingers brush against Kevin’s hair line.  “And I’ve had some bad sexual experiences that I’m still working through.”  Kevin can guess what ‘bad sexual experiences’ means in the context of Sam’s life, even if he doesn’t know the details.  He feels a confused pang of guilt, and wonders if maybe he’s a terrible person for having these feelings, or for slipping up enough to let Sam see them.            

“You know, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Kevin says, and studies a loose thread on the quilt. 

Sam tips Kevin’s head up.  He looks fondly amused.  “That’s supposed to be my line.”  He runs his thumb over Kevin’s lips, exploring.  In the back of his mind Kevin knows it’s a deliberate distraction, but it works anyway.  His whole body is centered on that tiny point of contact.  He reaches down cautiously and strokes Sam’s tousled hair, smoothing it back into place.  He’s still uneasy enough that he half-expects to get kicked off the bed, but Sam nuzzles his palm like a cat.  Kevin strokes his fingers across the strong brow and the roughly shaven cheek; he traces the vulnerable skin beneath the jaw.

Sam’s thumb is still rubbing over Kevin’s bottom lip.  He sucks it into his mouth, and Sam gives a sharp intake of breath.  Kevin makes a soft, involuntary sound in response.

Sam looks at him for a long moment and then pulls down the covers.  “You want to get in?”

Kevin reluctantly releases the thumb.  “Yeah.”  He reaches over and turns the lamp off.  The flat, glaring light feels wrong for something so intimate.  He’s not sure what the rules are, whether he’s supposed to undress or how much, so he crawls under the blankets with his jeans still on. 

It’s warm in the bed, and the weight of Sam’s body next to him is reassuring.  He didn’t know how much he craved this simple contact until he felt it.  He fumbles forward and kisses Sam.  Kissing is something he knows how to do.  It’s different than it was in the library, gentler, and when Sam’s tongue presses into his mouth it sends a cool rush down his spine.

Sam breaks off.  “Hey, you okay?”

“Sure,” Kevin says immediately, wondering what he’s done wrong now.  “Why?”

“Just, you’re shaking.”

Kevin almost says ‘no, I’m not,’ but then he feels the rapid vibration where his fingers are clutching Sam’s shoulder and realizes it’s coming from him.  He wants to curse his body for its petty betrayal.   He’s intimately familiar with all the kinds of fear it’s possible to feel:  the copper tang of pennies at the back of his throat when a near miss goes whistling past his head, the sour stench of flop sweat after a week of smiling at demons who don’t know he’s onto them, the smell of burned coffee and spilled bourbon lingering sticky and inescapable over an infinite number of blank, identical days.  This doesn’t feel like fear.  It’s just the cold edge of excitement, but it defeats him like fear never could.  His hands were rock steady every time he lied to Crowley, but now that he’s safely in bed with someone he likes his entire nervous system is shutting down on him.

“I’m sorry,” Kevin says, and it takes an act of will to keep his teeth from chattering.  “I don’t know why this is happening.”  It’s the truth.  His body’s reaction has nothing to do with his mind.  He wishes he had a shot of whiskey around he could use to wrestle it back under control.    “Honestly, I’m not even that worried about the whole sex thing.  If anything, I’m more worried I’ll do the wrong thing and scare you off.”  Especially now that a particularly spiteful part of his subconscious has picked this moment to stage some weird meltdown.

Sam’s hand slides under his t-shirt and rubs up and down his back.  “Nah.  I don’t scare that easy.  And you’re not going to do anything wrong.”

Kevin thinks that’s sweet but overly optimistic.  “Yeah?  Your first time went off without a hitch?”

Sam looks amusingly mortified by the question, and Kevin forgets about the shakes.  “What?  How bad was it?”

Sam sighs.  “Okay, fine.  So I was sixteen, and there was this girl a couple of years older than me, and we were fooling around in her bedroom, and she just says to me out of nowhere, ‘hey, let’s do it.’  And I don’t want her to know I’m a virgin so I’m all like, ‘sure, I do it all the time!’  I put a condom on, and I’m between her legs, and it feels really good.  And I don’t figure out until after I come that I’m not actually inside her.”

Kevin laughs so hard his chest hurts.  “Shut up,” Sam says, but he’s grinning.  “I begged her to give me a second chance, and maybe kind of cried a little, which I’m sure was super sexy.  But I guess she felt sorry for me because she let me try again, and the second time I managed to get it in.”

Kevin just barely manages to get his breathing under control.  “That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t my finest moment,” Sam says, and touches the curve of Kevin’s cheek fondly.  “So if you shake, you shake.  It’s okay.  No matter how badly you screw up, you’ll never screw up worse than I did.” 

Kevin’s still laughing when he drags Sam down on top of him and kisses him.  Sam’s weight on his chest is crushing and comforting, and there’s an easy familiarity to the way his bare foot rubs against Sam’s calf.  Sam breaks away from Kevin’s mouth and kisses his neck experimentally, sucking and nibbling carefully from one spot to the next while Kevin twists and moans underneath him.  He gives an undignified squeal when Sam hits the place where his jaw meets his throat.

“There?”  Sam smiles against his skin and lingers, carefully draws a string of broken sounds from Kevin’s throat.

Sam’s back feels impossibly broad under Kevin’s hands, a vast plane of subtly shifting muscle.  Kevin tugs at the hem of his t-shirt.  “Off?” he says, and he doesn’t mean for it to sound so much like a question.  Sam just peels it off over his head, and tosses it down on the floor.  Kevin does the same with his shirt, mostly because he wants to get it over with while Sam’s distracted. 

In the dim light Sam is so perfect he barely looks human.  Even the porn clips Kevin watched online and imagined himself inside didn’t have anyone who looked like this.  For an instant Sam’s shoulders curve inward and he ducks his head as if he were embarrassed.  Kevin’s instinct is to say “You’re beautiful,”—it’s what he’d said to Channing the first time she’d unhooked her bra what feels like a million years ago--but he catches himself.  He’s pretty sure he’s not allowed to say things like that to another guy.  Even if he’s in bed with him; even if it’s true.     

Sam’s mouth travels down Kevin’s chest curiously as Kevin fists a hand in his hair.  He’s well aware he’s no match for Sam’s graceful landscape of muscles.  He’s not as sickly as he was when he made his way here from Crowley’s fake houseboat, but he was a skinny kid when he was sixteen and he’s skinnier now.  His muscles are soft from lack of use and his ribs are dark shadows under his skin.  Kevin would be embarrassed except that he can feel the jagged, uneven rhythm of Sam’s breath against him and the keen focus of his attention, and it makes self-doubt impossible.

Sam licks at Kevin’s nipple, and the gentle flicker of his tongue is almost too sharp.  Kevin doesn’t know if he wants to pull away or push into it.  His body writhes uselessly.  Sam bites down and Kevin’s hit with a bright flash of pain.  He gives a startled yelp and cuffs Sam playfully on the head. “Hey, ow.”

Sam looks up at him.  “No, huh?”  

“Who wants to get bit?”

Sam shrugs.  “I like it.” 

“Yeah?”  Kevin grins and rolls them over.  Or tries to.  It’s quickly obvious Sam’s too big to flip, but he falls onto his back obligingly when Kevin pushes at him.

Kevin straddles Sam’s hips and feels a thrill at having a body so powerful beneath him.  He takes Sam’s nipple in his mouth and cautiously closes his teeth around it.  When Sam arches his back Kevin gets bolder and bites down.  Sam gives a breathy gasp that turns into a low, purring rumble as Kevin scatters bites across his chest. 

Kevin becomes intensely aware of Sam’s hard-on pressing into his hip.  He slides his hand across Sam’s sweatpants until it comes to rest tentatively over the bulge.  He traces the outline and then drags one finger down the center.  Sam gives a full body shiver. 

“Can I touch it?” Kevin says.  He immediately thinks he sounds like a kid playing doctor, but Sam doesn’t seem to care. 

“Yeah, yeah.”  Sam watches raptly as Kevin slides his hand beneath the waistband of his sweatpants.  The skin of Sam’s cock is hot to the touch.  He brushes the pads of his fingers along the length and feels the weight of it in his palm.   He’s surprised for an instant when he realizes there’s no foreskin.  Weird.  Different. 

Sam shifts minutely, his whole body tight with the effort to stay still.  No matter what he wants, he’s not doing anything until Kevin tells him to, like Kevin’s a wild animal he could scare off with a sudden movement.  Kevin grabs Sam’s cock more firmly, entertained by Sam’s self-restraint and the possibility of testing it.  But he feels a flicker of warmth, too, for how hard Sam is trying to make sure he feels safe.  He doesn’t think he needs to be handled with kid gloves, but it’s still a gift that for once in his life he’s the one who gets to decide that.                                     

He rolls off Sam, and Sam looks over, worried.  “Jeans,” Kevin explains.  He wishes now he’d taken them off when he first got into bed.  It’s awkward and unsexy trying to wriggle out of them while he’s under the covers.  He hesitates over his boxers, but then peels them off along with his pants and tosses both onto the floor.  Sam is out of his sweatpants in one fluid motion, and Kevin briefly envies both his innate grace and appropriate sex-wear.

Kevin feels shy again, but he ignores it and locks an arm around Sam’s neck as he draws him in for a kiss.  Sam’s massive hand lands flat and warm against Kevin’s lower belly, covering it completely. 

“Okay?” Sam says.

“Way more than okay.”  Even though he’s expecting it, Kevin almost bites through his tongue when Sam’s hand wraps around his cock.  He lets out a shocked choking noise.

“Good sound?” Sam asks, but he’s smiling like he knows damn well what the answer is.

“Good sound,” Kevin agrees when he’s capable of forming words.        

Kevin takes Sam in his hand again, but he isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do, and his touch is light and uncertain.  The only person he’s ever jerked off is himself, and he’s used to a foreskin that moves with him.  He’s a little afraid he’ll hurt Sam’s taut, delicate skin if he uses too much force.

“Let me show you what I like,” Sam says, and wraps his hand around Kevin’s, moving it quickly up and down, twisting it around the head of his cock.  Kevin loves the dark flush that rises up Sam’s cheeks, the soft repeated catch in his breath, the feeling of Sam’s hand wrapped around his, directing it, using it to give himself pleasure.

Sam pulls away after a while, leaving Kevin to imitate his movements, and begins to move his hand on Kevin’s cock again.  Kevin clings to him close enough that the angle hurts his wrist.  The double rhythm of them moving together is amazing, but the feeling of Sam’s hand on his cock is too overwhelming to let him concentrate on anything else.  Kevin keeps forgetting he’s supposed to be moving his own hand, only to remember with a jolt and start up again.  The half-dozenth time it happens Sam grabs his wrist gently and lifts his hand away.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says.  “Just enjoy.”

For a brief moment Kevin feels like he’s failed, but then Sam says, “Let me go down on you,” and Kevin forgets everything else.

“Yes, please, God.”

Sam glows with delight, like this is the greatest thing that Kevin could possibly give him.  He slides down, the sheet sliding with him, uncovering Kevin as he goes.  Sam kisses his inner thigh, his cheek rough against the soft skin. 

“You can breathe,” he says.  “I recommend it.”  Kevin hadn’t even realized he was holding his breath.  He forces himself to inhale.

When Sam swallows him down it hits Kevin like an electrical spark, and he bucks so hard he nearly throws Sam off the bed.  Sam peers up at him, somewhere between proud and concerned.  “Good?”

“Good,” Kevin says when he can speak.  “Fuck.  Wow.”

Sam smiles and throws an arm across Kevin’s hips before going back down. Kevin is grateful for Sam’s strength, for how Sam can pin him to the bed one-handed like it’s nothing.   His spine is bowed up off the mattress, and he’d probably fall right off the bed without that reassuring weight to hold him down.  He digs his heel into the small of Sam’s back so hard it must hurt, but the groan Sam makes in response is all pleasure. 

Kevin doesn’t understand he’s resisting until he stops.  The fight drains out of him, his muscles relaxing, his back sinking against the bed, his choked whimpers quieting to low moans.  The sweat prickles hot and cold across his skin.  When he finally manages to lift his head he’s met with the gleam of Sam’s eyes, fixed on his face.  He wants to hide from their gaze, and the fact that he can’t just makes him harder.  He feels raw and vulnerable.  His hand drops to Sam’s hair, clutching tight, and he feels the rhythm under his fingers.  Sam is flushed red, damp tendrils of hair stuck messily to his forehead, and he’s making a low, contented hum that Kevin feels as much as hears.  

“I’m, uh, I think I’m gonna come,” Kevin says, and even through the haze that’s settled over his brain it’s strange to be saying that to another person for the first time.

“Mmm hmm.”  Sam rubs his thumb along the inside of Kevin’s thigh and takes him deeper.  It’s the idea of coming in Sam’s mouth, of being _allowed_ to, that tips him over.   He comes with a ridiculous sound, half snort and half squeak.  He couldn’t care less.  Sam keeps sucking until Kevin gets oversensitive and it starts to hurt.  Kevin tugs him up with the last of his strength and then melts into the sheets , limp, exhausted, and grinning stupidly.   

The sheets shift with the rapid pace of Sam’s jerking off, and Kevin rolls his head lazily toward him to watch.  Sam’s looking at his body with naked hunger, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“Use my hand,” Kevin says.  “Like before.”       

Sam smiles.  “You really liked that.”  He takes Kevin’s hand in his and wraps it around his cock.  It’s too soon for Kevin to get worked up again, but he enjoys the intimacy of touching Sam in exactly the way Sam touches himself.  He kisses Sam, and it takes him a moment to understand that the bitter taste is from his come.  It should be gross, and at any other time it would be, but right now it’s more than fine.  Sam goes still when he comes, silent and rigid for an instant before he relaxes.  Kevin’s not sure what he’s supposed to do with the come on his hand, and surreptitiously wipes it off on the edge of the mattress.

The sweat has started to dry on his cooling skin, raising goose bumps.  He drags the covers up over them both and burrows against Sam’s chest, one leg thrown over his hip to draw him close.  Kevin’s drowsy and drunk on touch.

Sam ruffles his hair.  “How do you feel?”

“Thoroughly devirginized.  Very thoroughly.”  Kevin feels Sam sigh, and peeks up out of the blankets to see him looking worried.

“Happy,” Kevin says more seriously, although he’s half-afraid he’ll scare the emotion off by naming it.  “What about you?  Was I . . .?”

“You were amazing.  And I’m happy too.”  Sam looks ruefully at the ceiling.  “If anything, I’m a little concerned I’ve burned through all my good luck for the year.”

“Yeah,” Kevin says.  “I know what you mean.  There’ll probably be an alien invasion tomorrow or something.” 

Sam laughs a little at that.  “Probably.  We should rest up.”  Kevin nods.  Honestly, an alien invasion sounds about right for how his life goes, but he can’t make himself care right now.  His head drops back against Sam’s chest, and the steady rise and fall of his breathing carries him off to sleep. 


End file.
